"paintcans" poems
Sitting in a room
of paintcans and carpentry
With glasses off and headphones on
sticks in hand, pedals under foot
Breathing in paint fumes
exhaling the day
The band appears next to me
my foot becomes the click
As I close my eyes
I hear the crowd
The guitar begins to play
as the world fades to black
My hands try to quit
but my heart tightens my grip
Out of breath
Soaked in sweat
Nothing else matters
Just play that
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC